


How Much Do You Like This Shirt?

by nickelmd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Beer, First Kiss, Longing, M/M, Pining, moping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelmd/pseuds/nickelmd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas go out to a bar and pretend to be fake boyfriends. Cas accidentally says more than he means to. Dean makes a startling realization and puts his newfound knowledge to good use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Much Do You Like This Shirt?

Cas wonders how he’s going to make it through the evening. He doesn’t even know how he put himself into this situation. Well, maybe he has some idea. Somehow Dean short-circuits all his cleverly placed defense mechanisms. Increasingly, he finds himself in situations he normally avoids. For his sanity, and for the sake of preserving one of the only friendships he’s managed to make in the last ten years, he needs to learn to say no to Dean. The irony that he wants to avoid Dean to keep from alienating him is not lost on him, but other promising alternatives fail to appear.

Thats how he finds himself braving the bar to collect another round of drinks, simply to give himself time to review the evening so far. In quickly sorting through the evening, he finds it’s going fairly well. He can’t think of any embarrassing or off putting things he might have said or done. He huffs a surprised laugh. Without permission his eyes flick over to Dean. Unsurprisingly, in his absence another hapless soul has found themselves drawn into Dean’s orbit. Cas is surprised, in fact, given Dean’s effortless charm, that he doesn’t have a constant trail of admirers in his wake.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the voice of the overworked bartender startles him back to himself. He gives a tight smile and quick nod before turning back to Dean and the newcomer. He enjoys watching Dean interact with others almost as much as he enjoys interacting with him himself. More, maybe, because it takes the stress off him. It removes the anxiety that his awkwardness is going to bring the whole interaction screeching to a halt. In fairness, Dean hasn’t yet expressed any irritation at Castiel’s awkwardness, but in his experience it’s only a matter of time.

Observing Dean’s body language is usually extremely pleasant. His default attitude is openness and affection. Being on the receiving end of all of that attention and those smiles is slightly overwhelming, but watching it in action is extremely satisfying and often loosens up whatever tension Cas is carrying around. This time, however, Cas finds his shoulders tensing instead of relaxing. He needs to stop and think about that for a moment. For a shocking second, he thinks he might be jealous. He dismisses that theory quickly. Jealousy isn’t an emotion he understands for many reasons, so it seems unlikely he’d feel it simply because Dean was talking to some other man. After all, Dean has lots of friends, many of them men, and even if this stranger was coming onto Dean, Dean is decidedly not looking for a man. Cas is sure of that. Pretty sure anyway…sure enough. And even if he was, (which he’s not, right?) Cas doesn’t have any claim on Dean short of this strange friendship that has sprung up between them.

So, if he’s not jealous, what is he? He thinks it’s anger. It feels like it might be anger, which is perplexing until he really looks at Dean. Dean’s normally open stance is closed off and his lips are tight. He doesn’t look aggressive, but he looks one step away from it. The stranger, on the other hand, is leaning forward, his head tilted and a wide smile is on his face. He IS flirting with Dean, but for some reason it seems to be pissing Dean off. Since Dean’s normal personality setting is flirtatious, it seems surprising that the man’s flirting would make him angry. But maybe he’s uncomfortable flirting with a man? Or maybe it’s the aggressive way the stranger seems to leer at him. Dean looks poised between embarrassment and anger and suddenly Cas finds himself angry. Can’t this guy see how uncomfortable he’s making Dean? To Cas it’s like a neon sign flashing above Dean’s head saying, “Leave me the fuck alone.” Just then the stranger leans further over the table, as if he might reach out and lay a hand on Dean. Cas is suddenly, decisively, filled with the need to rescue Dean. It is utterly ridiculous. Dean Winchester has never needed saving. He is handsome, capable, has enough charm to talk his way out of most unpleasantness, and has enough muscle to discourage the rest. That doesn’t seem to matter at the moment and Cas can only think of one solution.

He rearranges his features into something resembling relaxation, or what he thinks it might look like if he ever truly relaxed. He forces himself to walk slowly back to the table. And then the tricky part. He needs to initiate enough physical contact to be convincing, but not enough to allow his body to betray his emotions. His emotions don’t matter, though. This situation is not about him, it’s about extracting Dean from a situation that is making him uncomfortable before someone gets punched in the face. Putting it in that perspective helps. He can manage it. It’ll be easy.

Ok. He can do it. He’s almost there. Dean’s eyes flick over and meet his. He sees a mix of panic and relief and panic again. Cas smiles as sweetly as he can muster under the circumstances and slides closer. He’s close enough to reach out and touch Dean’s shoulder now. So he does. He lays his hand gently on his shoulder and leans his face close, cheeks barely grazing, hand trailing to the far side of his shoulder and briefly down his arm, where it stops. “Hey, babe, who’s your friend?” Dean’s shoulders tense and relax and tense again as he reacts to Cas’ nearness. As Dean turns to answer him, Cas can see it would be so easy to lean in and add a brief kiss to the subterfuge, but he has enough self-preservation to know that’s not a good idea, so he simply straightens up and looks across to the stranger.

“He’s no friend of mine.”

“Hmmm,” Cas hums, “Well then, it was nice not meeting you,” and proceeds to position himself in such a way as to exclude a third person from his conversation with Dean. Dean’s eyes find his and Cas can see his relief and a small smile starting at the corners of his mouth. Cas’ hand is still resting lightly on Dean’s arm and Cas takes a moment to appreciate the feel of Dean’s bicep under his palm before gently removing it and placing it on the table between them. The stranger’s eyes move between Dean and Cas looking slightly confused, but then he shrugs and pushes away from the table with a wink, “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Dean and Cas are left sitting awkwardly close to each other. They both seem to notice at the same time shifting their bodies just slightly apart. It doesn’t dispel the awkwardness as much as Cas would like, but he doesn’t think getting up and moving his chair is quite appropriate either. Next time Dean invites him out, he’s definitely saying no. He figures next time he’s alone with Dean they’ll probably find themselves locked in a closet or naked on the side of the road. It’s just how friendships work out for him: promising, moderately ok, less ok, embarrassing, awkward, implosion.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why'd you do it?" Dean’s hand rubs awkwardly on the back of his neck. 

"Well..." Cas thinks carefully over the words before he says them, scrutinizing them for unintentional emotional leakage, "You looked uncomfortable."

Dean’s answering chuckle is a stuttering sound. He looks dissatisfied, but Cas can see he’s unwilling to press further.

"Dean, I'm sorry if I made you more uncomfortable. I assumed you were uncomfortable with his sexual advances. I...I thought it best to," he pauses, testing the words again, "fight fire with fire, but I didn't consider that you might be equally uncomfortable with my," he pauses again, at a loss to explain his behavior, which in retrospect was a gross miscalculation. If Dean was unhappy being hit on by a man, of course he would be even more uncomfortable to be put in a situation with a fake boyfriend. After all, it wasn't the man himself he was objecting to, but the fact that it was a man at all. He finishes his sentence by simply waving his hand in a defeated way between the two of them.

Dean’s hands twitch nervously on the table, then flex out straight and ball into fists, which then splay flat onto the table. Cas thinks he could spend hours looking at those capable hands. He probably already has. They were safer than Dean’s face, most of the time. Less expressive and easier to enjoy without getting caught.

"Jesus, Cas, you think I was more uncomfortable with you than with that douchebag? I was glad you...came over. He was saying...shit, and…Jesus," Dean’s hand comes up and pushes through his hair, offering Cas the luxury of looking at both hands and face, but it’s hard to enjoy either at the moment. "You were right, he was making me fucking uncomfortable, but you know it wasn't...I mean...it wasn't because he was a dude? Because it's not, I mean, that's not…that wouldn't make me uncomfortable." 

Cas is having trouble concentrating on Dean’s words because of the faint pink flush of his ears. The unflappable Dean Winchester is blushing. After a moment of silence his brain catches up with Dean’s words. Oh. And out loud, "Oh. Well, I'm glad I could help then." His curiosity is starting to get the better of him, what could anyone say to rattle Dean, god of sexual conquests. As much as he thinks it best to put this whole incident behind them, he has to ask, "What could he have possibly said to offend *you*?"

Dean booms out a laugh. "You really don't want to know, buddy. Let's finish these drinks and get out of here."

For some reason as they stumble into his apartment, Dean feels awkward. Which is weird because Cas has been in his apartment before. Plenty of times, hundreds, probably, or at least tens of times since they became friends. He’s even spent the night when they’ve had too much to drink. It’s never felt awkward before, but then Cas has never pretended to be his boyfriend 20 minutes before walking in the front door either. He can still feel the light pressure of Cas’ hand dragging across his shoulders. And for a brief, startlingly hopeful moment, he thought he was going to get kissed. Now every time he looks at Cas that’s all he can think about.

But probably more alcohol will solve that problem. “You want a beer?” he throws out to Cas, while walking into the kitchen. Cas is halfway to the couch before he says, voice calm as ever, “Yes, please.” Dean might take longer than he strictly needs to get the beers, just to give himself time to stop being an idiot. When he returns, Cas’ head is leaning against the back of the couch and his eyes are closed. Dean sits down and taps Cas with the open beer bottle. Cas’ eyes open slowly and he gives Dean a lazy smile before his face goes serious again and he takes his beer.

The thing is, he knows he’s attracted to Cas. I mean, of course he is, have you seen him? Even if he were 100% straight he’s pretty sure he’d still be able to appreciate that Cas is an attractive dude. You can’t argue with facts. He’s not 100% straight, but it isn’t something he brings up in casual conversation. Evidently it isn’t even something he brings up in conversation with his best friend. Normally, he tries to get a read on someone’s attitude about sexuality before he’s comfortable putting it on the table. It just helps him if he’s got a general idea what the reaction is going to be. With Cas, though, he kept waiting to get a ping on his sexuality radar and it never came. While Cas doesn’t seem disinterested in sex, he never brings up who he’s interested in, he never jokes about wanting to bang…anyone. Dean does, all the time, sometimes just to try to get a reaction out of Cas. He never takes the bait. He’ll laugh, he’ll tell Dean she’s out of his league, but he never states his own preference. Dean’s tried feeling out if Cas is into guys, but all of those attempts have fallen flat too. He doesn’t think it would freak Cas out to know that Dean’s an equal opportunity player, but after a while it seemed awkward to bring it up, like he’d been keeping it from him.

He briefly indulges himself, watching Cas bring the beer to his lips and tilt his head back. He turns away and props his leg up on the coffee table. The house is quiet. Dean can hear the sound of Cas swallowing, but he doesn’t turn. He looks straight ahead, pretending this is just like any one of the other times Cas has been on his couch drinking beer.

Walking in the door, Cas can tell Dean’s uncomfortable. He knows it. He assumes it’s from what happened at the bar, but he can’t figure out which part. If he could figure it out, he thinks he might be able to fix it, but Dean’s told him it was nothing. He said he was fine. He seemed grateful Cas had stepped in. He said he wasn’t uncomfortable because the guy was a guy, just because he was an assbutt. No, that’s not the word Dean used, but he’s tired and Dean’s couch is so comfortable. He’s just going to close his eyes for a second.

Something cold is touching his shoulder. He feels weirdly disoriented. His mind flashes to his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Is that a thing that happened? He opens his eyes and sees Dean leaning over him, beer in hand. Dean’s smiling at him. That, and the memory of his hands on Dean, make him smile back. Suddenly the reason he let himself have the luxury of touching Dean comes flooding back and he schools his face back to it’s carefully cultivated neutrality. Dean’s smile goes a little forced, but Cas feels better, more in control.

Dean seems more relaxed than he did before Cas’ accidental nap, but, though the silence is not unpleasant or even uncharacteristic of their time together, tonight it feels weighted in a way Cas doesn’t really understand. Cas has never told Dean he’s gay, but he thought it was probably obvious. Did Dean only realize that tonight? Is Dean just now dealing with that information? Is it going to be too weird for Dean to keep hanging out like this, now that he knows Cas likes guys? Or, really, that Cas likes Dean. He’s suddenly afraid his feelings were painfully obvious during his little charade. That would probably be enough to freak anyone out. It’s never a good idea to develop a painfully unrequited crush on your straight best friend. Cas knows this. He’s been so careful, never indulging in even one blissful/painful fantasy. It’s wreaked havoc with his love life. He’s been working so hard to tamp down his raging attraction to Dean that he hasn’t been able to think about anyone else either. It’s been a really long six months.

“Cas…”

“Dean…” the both say at the same time.

Dean huffs a laugh, “You go first, Cas.”

“No, it’s fine. Mine can wait, I want to know what’s got you so pensive.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck and sits up with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hand. When he turns and looks up at Cas, his fingers lace together and he looks, Cas thinks helplessly, like he’s about to pray. “Look, Cas. There’s something I haven’t told you, uh, about me…” Cas squints skeptically at Dean. Has Dean forgotten all his late night drunk confessions? He even told Cas about the time his girlfriend talked him into wearing panties, and how he felt about it. Cas was pretty proud of how he held up under that confession, thank you very much. He’d told Dean people like what they like and he shouldn’t feel weird about it. Then he’d gone to the bathroom and done complex math in his head until he could get his traitorous body under control. By the time he’d come out, Dean was asleep on the couch and he escaped to the safety of his own house and his own cold shower.

“No, I’m serious. It’s not a big deal, it just seemed…I don’t know, it got weird to tell you, when I hadn’t…um…told you right away. It’s not like I think you’d care, but, I’m, uh…” Dean closes his eyes and just gets it over with, “bisexual.”

Cas laughs. Cas belly laughing is such a rare sight that Dean is shocked into laughing a little himself. Cas finally calms down enough to say, “No, you’re not. Dean…you don’t have to say that to make me feel more comfortable, just because you realized I’m gay.” Dean’s eyes go wide as saucers, “Or…didn’t realize I was gay?” Cas finishes timidly.

Cas is gay. Dean knows he should probably say something, because Cas is looking a little pale after accidentally outing himself, but his mind is too busy. Dean tries to look back over their relationship to see how he couldn’t have picked up on it. He’s not exactly the kind of guy who looks too deeply into feelings, his own or other people’s, but he’s pretty good at reading people, and he is always more than open to great sex. It’s a good combination, usually, making it easy to pick up signals from men and women who might be looking for a fun night, an easy breakfast, and a quick goodbye. Of course, since he met Cas, he’s been a little too busy hanging out with him to really put his skills to good use. It’s been an excruciatingly long six months.

Dean finally sorts through all of Cas’ words enough to say, “You think I only told you I’m bisexual to make you feel better about being gay around me? What the hell, Cas? Are you…do you think I think a straight guy can’t be friends with a gay guy?”

“What? Dean, no. I mean, I don’t know,” Cas head is hurting and when Dean said he was bisexual every awkward, filthy fantasy he’d ever almost had about Dean started clawing it’s way to the forefront of Cas’ brain. “I just…I just know you can’t be bisexual…you cannot be.” Please, please, you can’t be, Cas adds silently to himself.

Dean looks angry now, “Oh, you can be gay, but I can’t be bisexual?”

Dean stands up. He cannot believe what an asshole Cas is being. He's trying to reign in his frustration. He doesn't know what to do with his arms. He crosses them, then uncrosses them. Finally, he points at Cas, “Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical? Who do you think you are, with your intense staring and your fucking, just fucked hair, coming into my house and telling me I can’t be bisexual when you have never even looked at a dude in my presence. You’re the one who’s not gay, man.”

Cas reaches up and touches his hair like it’s offended him somehow. Dean’s brain catches up with his mouth and he realizes he might have just said more than he meant to. Cas stands up and starts pacing through the tiny room. He looks so focused, like he’s trying to do long division in his head. “Dean. This is stupid. Of course you can be bisexual. I just…I…forget about it. I was being selfish.”

“Why would you not want me to be bisexual? You’re gay, man. What difference could it possibly make to you? Are you telling me you don’t want to be my friend because of my sexuality? Because that’s some pretty messed up shit.”

Cas’ whole body trembles with what looks a lot like frustration, but Dean has almost never seen Cas anything short of meticulously composed, so it’s kind of hard to tell. “I am trying to tell you,” Cas yells, “that I have only been able to maintain a friendship with you this long because I knew I could never have more. And of course I’ve never looked at another man, I’VE BEEN SO BUSY NOT LOOKING AT YOU I HAVEN’T HAD TIME TO LOOK AT ANYONE ELSE!” Cas makes a sound like a squeak toy and both hands fly to cover his mouth.

Dean watches as Cas returns to the couch. He sits down carefully and covers his face with both hands. Did Cas just, did he just imply that he wants…more? With him? Dean tests that idea. Runs that idea parallel to the arc of their friendship and is surprised to find he’s not surprised. What he is, is relieved. All the tension and bristly anger he’s built up over the course of the evening leaves him in a rush. Cas wants him. He wants Cas. Suddenly everything is so easy he could laugh.

Cas doesn’t look like he wants to laugh, though. His face is still in his hands and Dean can see he’s composing himself. Rebuilding whatever armor he’s had in place. Dean has to admit, it was a pretty good ruse to fool him. But he can’t really complain. If he’d known the day he met Cas that Cas found him attractive, he probably would have made a move that night and said goodbye in the morning. Instead he got a chance to have a best friend first. He doesn’t want a one-night stand from Cas now. Now, he never wants to let him go.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean’s voice is soft. It makes Cas’ heart hurt. This is why he built all these damn defenses in the first place, so he’d never have to hear Dean’s “I’m gonna let you down easy” voice. It’s better to face this head on, like pulling off a bandage. Yes, that’s it. Soon he’ll be home in his bed and this embarrassing fiasco will all be behind him.

He stands up without looking at Dean, “It’s ok. I understand. I didn’t mean for that last part to come out. I know this changes things. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’ve really enjoyed our friendship and I can’t regret it,” and because he is weak, so weak, he looks up at Dean.

Dean’s smiling. Cas can feel his eyes go squinty in that way Dean sometimes makes fun of. Sure enough, Dean smiles brighter, “You’re right, Cas. It does change things.” And then Dean’s there. Right there. When did that happen? He can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He wonders if Dean can hear it. This doesn’t feel like rejection. It feels like the opposite of rejection and it’s making every nerve in his body tingle in anticipation, but he’s still too stunned to move.

Dean can see the moment Cas realizes something different is happening between them. Cas stands very still, eyes wide on Dean, but no longer looking like he’s going to flee the apartment. Dean presses his face close to Cas’ ear. “Do you know why I didn’t want to tell you I was bi, Cas?” he whispers.

A low moan escapes Cas’ lips as he says, “W…why?”

“Because I was afraid how obvious it would be that I was attracted to you,” Dean answers, honestly, touching his nose to the hair above Cas’ ear. Dean can feel that Cas is still holding himself in. His eyes are closed and the muscles in his jaw are flexing like he’s clenching his teeth. It’s so hot Dean can feel his body start to catch up this evenings events. In the rare moments that he’s fantasized about Cas, he’s imagined Cas would be an inventive lover and meticulous, but this barely suppressed desire was never part of the equation. Cas had so thoroughly hidden this side of himself from Dean that he couldn’t even conjure it up in his imagination.

Dean wants Cas to fall over the edge, but he doesn’t want to force him. Cas has made it pretty clear he wants him, and here with their bodies so close, Dean’s pretty sure he’s reading the signals right, but Cas needs to let him know this is ok. 

“Cas,” he starts, trying to ask him for what he needs, but it comes out more like a plea. Cas’ growl is all the warning he gets before there are suddenly arms and hands, lips and teeth fucking everywhere and it’s amazing. He doesn't even realize Cas has maneuvered them across the room until his back hits the wall. It's a relief to lean his weight against the wall and just let Cas go to town.

Dean wouldn’t call himself a man-whore, but he’s had plenty of experience, still he can hardly keep up with Cas. His whole body is on fire. Currently Cas’ lips are sucking a bruise into his collarbone while his hands are rucking his shirts up out of his pants. He keeps trying to reciprocate, but Cas knocks his hands away every time they get in the way of his own explorations of Dean’s body. He can feel Cas’ hands trying to unbutton his shirt as his mouth moves up his neck. He hears a frustrated growl against his ear, “Dean…how much do you like this shirt?” Dean stills. Does Cas really want to talk about his taste in clothes right now?

“Fuck it. I know how to sew,” Cas says quietly before he pulls away just long enough to rip Dean’s shirt open, sending buttons popping off and plopping all over his living room. Dean stares at Cas, realizing for the first time, that he might just have bitten off more than he can chew. He’s so fucked. And it’s awesome.


End file.
